


I'm holding tight (and no I won't let go)

by cruelest_month



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Making the law work for you, Monster husbands in love, Slice of Life, house arrest, not exactly being kind to priests, prison wedding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: Marriages come with complications and compromises. This one comes with money, powers, and several fond memories of previous attempts. So surely a reduced prison sentence followed by house arrest can't be that difficult. Not when Elias Bouchard is marrying Peter Lukas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Jenavira and Whiskeyjack for reading and giving me advice! <3

“I don’t particularly want to be here.” 

Peter stretches in his seat. He’s been quiet for a while. Sometimes the visits are just to allow Elias time outside of a cell. Peter does a crossword or reads a novel while Elias closes his eyes and seeks out what he wants without restriction.

“Of course not,” he agrees, not even looking up for his puzzle.

Elias hesitates. Then: “Do something about it, would you?”

Peter huffs and sets his paper down. “Such as?”

He sighs inwardly. It isn’t going to be as simple as he’d like, of course. He sincerely hopes he won’t end up needing to beg. “My case is not moving forward at a reasonable pace. I’m not even sure when I’m being tried. The fact of the matter is that my solicitor is terrible, but I—the Institute can’t afford much better. You could.”

Peter scowls as he usually does when it comes to practical matters. He dislikes being of actual use, particularly in the monetary sense. He doesn’t turn exactly somber but he does regard Elias seriously.

“There’s just you.” Peter’s lips twist in an unpleasant way that suggest Elias should say more than that. “Which I appreciate, of course, but there’s only you, Peter. Who else am I to ask?”

Peter sighs. “Elias, you misunderstand. It’s not the asking that I object to. It’s that you take and give me nothing rather consistently. I’m already doing you a favor as it is.”

“Are you still upset that I never talked about you? That none of them had so much as heard of my dear friend Peter Lukas?”

“Of course not.”

Of course he is. Peter rarely gets over anything. “If the favor is so very taxing, then tell me you won’t do it.”

“I gave you my word.”

“Take it back. I’m always taking, aren’t I? The point is you are not trapped here or anywhere. You can leave at any time.”

Peter’s expression softens slightly. “Leaving lacks a little something when you’re not able to do the same to me.”

Elias brushes his fingers against Peter’s wrist. Peter hasn’t refused him, not yet. So he might as well see what’s expected of him. “What do you want?”

“In order to?”

Elias rolls his eyes. “To help me,” he says quietly.

Peter studies him expectantly.

 _Oh, honestly_ , Elias thinks to himself. _Such vanity_. And yet he’s fond of it all. “Very well. Peter, my darling, I am desperately in need of your help. To that end, I am at your mercy and willing to do whatever you’d like to obtain your aid.”

Peter, as is to be expected, looks very pleased. “Marry me.”

Elias smiles slightly. Oh, but the man is predictable and soft at times. “That’s all you want? You can have that anyway.”

Peter grins wickedly. “It’s a bit more than that, darling. I can certainly get you out of here, no doubt about it. But I can’t get you back to your Archivist, not right away.”

Peter continues as Elias stares at him. Clearly he’s given the matter a considerable amount of thought. “Too many character witnesses and potential restraining orders if we move too quickly. Far too long of a probationary period at first, I’m sorry to say. No, I imagine they’ll want you to stay put somewhere. There won’t be a tight leash but I suspect there will be an ankle monitor.”

Elias considers this and frowns. He slides back in his chair a little. All of this has occurred to him because of course it has, but it’s still disappointing. This isn’t a small request then. He has no objection to marriage. This is one event that he’s been through time and again. He has no reservations about agreeing to another marriage when it comes to Peter. Only now he seems to be trading one prison for another.

“Don’t fret too terribly much, love. We’ll work around it, you know that, but the majority of your time would be in our home.” He pauses, looking incredibly handsome and smug all at once. “Well, _my_ home. You’ll be quite comfortable. And it won’t last forever.”

“You could sound less pleased. Or look it, at least.”

“I could, but I make a habit not to lie to you about the things that matter.”

Peter is, as his kind goes, fairly honest. He’s sharing the details of his plans where others might not have mentioned any. If anyone is going to relish all but chaining Elias to his bed, it’s Peter. If anyone is going to find a crafty way to work around ankle monitors and probation, it’s also Peter. 

Peter isn’t exactly the sort of enjoy a downcast playmate. More importantly, Elias knows Peter. He knows they are as alike as they are different. They enjoy amusing themselves with each other but generally at the expense of some hapless victim. Peter has proposed marriage many times and he wouldn’t bother doing so solely for torment’s sake. 

Elias sighs and relents. “Will it be a nice and tasteful wedding?”

“I rather thought we could marry simply and in prison. Save the money for getting you out of here.”

“How festive,” Elias deadpans. “What should I compare the potential honeymoon to? In a trailer behind the prison yard? I hear it’s lovely this time of year for conjugal visits.”

Peter chuckles. “Oh, Elias. We’ll wait until you’re liberated. We can spend it in bed. For however long you like. Until you’re sick of me. As I said, leaving you is considerably less enticing when you can’t try to leave me first.”

Elias nods. It is the truth, after all, Peter is not usually the one to leave for good. He’s just usually the one to disappear for months on end. 

Peter leans in closely, still grinning. “I want to tell the priest about how deadly you are. Convince him you’re a serial killer.”

“Really.”

“Mm. And how you won me over with your sordid, sweet letters. Or was it the dark rituals you practiced in the corner of your cell?”

“You were lonely and you decided a dangerous criminal make for a decent pen pal?”

“It’s very romantic when you think about it.”

Elias just shakes his head.

Peter presses a finger against the corner of Elias’ lips. He studies him closely, his expression firm and hard to read. “I’ll make you happy. On occasion. And I’ll propose properly if you’d like.”

Elias shakes his head. “I mean what I say to you a majority of the time too, you know. I’d marry you anyway.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He pretends to think about it then chuckles when Peter shakes his shoulder. “I like the look of you in the morning. You’re always dressed first thing and bringing me whatever I’d like. I’ll have that to look forward to. What about you?”

“I like when I can look at you and know you’re mine,” Peter admits. “If only for a little while. More to the point, however, you asked me to run your Institute. Maybe you never talk about me the way I’d like but _you_ thought about _me_. Which means you think about me. I want to give you more reasons to continue to do so.”

“Then I accept.”

“Hm.” Peter kisses Elias’ hair before he moves back. He folds up his paper and pockets his pencil. “How’s tomorrow sound?”

“It sounds lovely.”

“Good, I’ll get it arranged.” He leans back in over the metal table and kisses Elias thoroughly.

Elias sighs into the kiss before returning it. He’s long since stopped caring whether they’re observed or not. Soon it won’t matter one way or the other what a few prison guards think. Soon he won’t have to be here any longer.

Peter nuzzles his cheek. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says.

His face feels warm but the rest of him is cold. Elias isn’t sure he has much of anything to look forward to in the near future, but he does think it’ll be nice to have more of that warmth for longer stretches of time. To be with someone who knows him is a comforting thought despite all the dissatisfying restrictions that will come with it.

“I’d get into trouble if I followed that advice,” Elias mutters, bringing his arms across his chest.

“Then stay put and be a good boy until I come back,” Peter suggests with a wink. “And don’t go anywhere.”

“Not even if I could,” Elias replies but only when Peter is too far away to hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several chapters to come. The second one is already written and an outline does exist. I'm hoping to keep working on this throughout the month.
> 
> (I've been posting most TMA fic things on tumblr first where I'm cruelestmonth.)


	2. Chapter 2

The rec room is all muted colors much like an overcast sky. Nothing about it suggests an ideal venue for anything at all. In fact, one dark corner suggests a stabbing has recently taken place here.

The priest is painfully young and ordinary. He’s fretting the entire time, and it can’t just be because of whatever nonsense Peter has told him. Elias peers curiously in, and decides he’ll send the boy in for a statement. Doubtless one of the archival assistants will think it is a shame about his sister.

Peter holds onto Elias as the priest talks at length about nothing of note. It is the sappy stereotypical droning nonsense expected from a man of the cloth. Elias finds it tedious and unnecessary. Still, not much as been asked of them, so there is that small mercy.

Peter’s hands are warm along Elias’ back. They haven’t had this much physical contact in ages. While Elias is not the sort who relies too heavily on such things, it is a relief to have strong hands grasping at him. He wouldn’t say no to a bit more of a forceful grip but apparently Peter can tell a priest his husband is a serial killer but he draws the line at groping.

When the ceremony – a term used solely in reference to this event if one is feeling particularly generous – is over, Elias kisses Peter soundly, amused as something decidedly not metal slips onto his finger. He examines the thick black band and then looks up at his husband.

“Silicone,” Peter explains. “They’ll let you keep it if you promise not to choke to death on it.”

“When I have you to live for?”

Peter grins.

Their anxious priest is eying the door. The guards have left them to their own devices save for a few cameras if Elias had to guess. The priest has not cared to speculate, which has left the man to feel a bit like a lamb before the wolves.

Elias breaks free of Peter and moves over towards their retreating friend. “It would do you some good to talk about what troubles you.”

“You means besides… this…”

Elias isn’t sure if the priest is indicating him or the rather sad room or the strange marriage the man has just officiated. “I should hardly think this will trouble you once you leave. The matter of your sister and what exactly it is that she is dating, well, that is quite different.”

The priest twitches. “How—”

Elias gives him the name and address for the Institute. “Insist on speaking to Jonathan Sims. He’s the one who can help you.”

There is no real trust between them, but the priest is out of options. His prayers go unheeded and he has yet to confide in his superiors. He has always prided himself on being open-minded, full of his god’s grace, and a host of other nonsense. He’ll go to the Magnus Institute for one reason and one reason alone: anonymity.

“I suppose I should go then,” the priest says at last. He’s been struggling to come up with something kind to reply with, and nothing has occurred to him.

“Most likely, yes.”

“Congratulations. On this…” Again he struggles. “Well, on what must be, for you, the happiest of days. And I do hope you’re able to find happiness in spite of your many life sentences. To have found someone despite your crimes and your age… My goodness. The human capacity for love and forgiveness truly is remarkable. A daily reminder of the reality of His divine miracles.”

Elias sighs, careful not to roll his eyes. He smiles a bit viciously and inclines his head. “Quite so, but you need not worry much for me. I’ll be out soon enough. I’ve an excellent lawyer now. My husband’s seen to that. Oh!” He claps his hands together, still grinning. “And God, of course, what with the miracles and all. Mustn’t forget him.”

The priest turns pale and then red. Then he leaves, hands clenched around his bible and cross.

Elias smiles cruelly, watching him go.

“Look at you enjoying the happiest day of your life,” Peter teases as he draws closer. “Not many of those left according to our young friend.”

“And yet we’re likely to outlive him,” Elias murmurs, allowing Peter to wrap his arms around his waist.

“Fancy that.” Peter leans in, teeth grazing over Elias’ skin as he smiles. Slowly and gently, he bites into Elias’ neck, licking at the marks left behind. “Hm. Care to dance?”

The floor itself is slightly grimy. There’s a slightly elevated corner that’s some sort of makeshift stage. They move to that and Peter sets up his phone on the podium. Some mix made up entirely of Ingrid Michaelsen.

As she starts to sing some pastel backdrops and an old faded Happy Birthday banner fall down, stirring up dust motes. They cling to the air and the fading sunlight as it pours in from windows that are quite high overhead.

Elias hardly cares. He lets himself be led into a dance and then another, but his focus turns to Peter’s thoughts. He has Peter all to himself in a way that feels more real and tangible than visiting hours. He can’t ignore that.

Nothing stops him or impedes him as he drifts from thought to thought. Peter never resists these things. Elias wanders through dark, neglected places, soothing and smoothing out ragged edges. There’s no lingering trace of anyone else here. Just Peter. Just them. Memories and moments interspersed with what the Lukas family’s patron craves: Empty halls. Lonely seas. Abandoned chambers. Heartless waves. All of it blue and grey and seafoam green. Nothing stirs and nothing lives here. Except Peter. When he remembers to. If he remembers to.

Those silent, lurking jealousies Elias has been nursing ever since giving Peter the Institute (and giving Peter to the Institute) fade. He doesn’t expect to come first to most people or to anyone, really, but he wants to weigh heavily on Peter’s mind. He scrawls his name on some of the walls as he continues on his way.

Eventually, he finds what he wants in a dust-covered ballroom. Silent, faceless figures eat silently. The meal on the table is covered in cobwebs and made up of old bones. Red-tinted longing and gold-tinged lust are coiling like snakes in the shadows, watching. It occurs to Elias that they have been following him the entire time.

 **_These_ **, he insists, tugging the thoughts to the forefront.

Elias opens his eyes, pleased to see Peter’s flashing with hints of red and gold. He’s shoved against the wall and kissed roughly.

“Oh, Elias. Why such a rush?” Peter murmurs, nipping at Elias’ jawline.

Elias rakes his nails down Peter’s back. “I just want you.” He digs them lightly into Peter’s hair as he brings them back up.

“You could regret that one of these days,” Peter murmurs, tearing off his tie.

“Not as long as I know what you want. And I do.”

Peter makes quick work of his suit jacket, shoving it down his broad shoulders and letting it fall where it may. Then he smirks, gently removing his cufflinks, which he sets down on the podium. No sense losing what’s likely to be some sort of family heirloom.

Elias, in the meantime, has seen to the buttons on Peter’s collared shirt.

The zipper on his jumpsuit is loud and he laughs as Peter all but yanks him out of it.

Then there’s not much talking after that. He digs back into Peter’s thoughts even as he tugs his husband closer. Peter’s kisses are a constant flurry and then he presses Elias against the wall to take him.

They make sure of one of the tables that aren’t extremely comfortable but Peter has brought sheets because of course he has. Elias shoves Peter down hard, holding his hands in place and kisses him lightly until he finally is willing to beg for something else. Silently, of course. Elias would much rather have him think it than say it.

After, he wonders absently how much attention the guards are paying. What will they think of the strange stamina of two old men? No doubt Peter will take care of that. Peter usually is the one to see to their privacy.

He runs his hands along Peter’s chest, through tangles of grey hair. He’s missed this. He’s missed each and every tattoo. Each mark and scar and freckle. Not that he’s forgotten. No, he knows where all of them are. He kisses Peter’s shoulder and then bites down hard.

Peter just huffs.

“Do you have expeditions planned? Before the trial?”

Peter runs a hand through Elias’ hair and tugs roughly. “Hardly. I’m running an institute. Or hadn’t you heard?”

Elias regards him curiously. “Are you there on a regular basis?”

Peter looks chagrined but only slightly and only for a second. “At any rate, I’m not off on any trips. Not until you’re out.” 

For all that has happened to and between them, Elias is grateful for Peter’s loyalty. He returns it as best he can, but he’s not sure it is always an equal trade. Were rituals involved, of course, the matter would be different. But that was only to be expected. You couldn’t hold that against anyone. “How does your family feel about that?”

“I feel good about it and you feel good about it, yes?”

“To a degree.”

“Then I’m content.”

Elias smiles slightly. It’s rather forced and small. He rests his hands on Peter’s chest and then his chin on his hands. Then he sighs.

Peter softly kisses his lips and then his cheek. “I know you don’t want to be here, love, and you won’t be. Not for very long. So chin up. That trial will be over and done before you know it. With a verdict that you’ll be willing to tolerate if nothing else.”

Elias nods, missing the days where one could do better than putting up with decisions made by the oblivious and small-minded.

“Of course, we needn’t bother with all these trivialities. Not if you’re feeling a bit more adventurous,” Peter points out, a bit of a glint in his eyes. “Why if you just say the word--”

“We’ll move to Kent and hide away in Moorland House until such a time comes as they bury us around the back?”

Peter turns grim. “I’d sooner leave you here, no offense.”

“None taken. I’d elect to stay put.”

Peter chuckles. “Now, now. There are alternatives, my little convict.”

Elias rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “I’m not spending the rest of my days in disguise and fishing on your boat. I too have an institute to run.”

“A pity that. You’re so much better at navigation than I am. Almost took out my eye the last time I used a divider on a map.”

“Only because you can’t seem to manage anything outside of a phone. Just find an app, Peter.”

Peter smiles warmly. “Even if I did, I’d still be lost without you.”

Elias stares at him, torn between annoyance and affection. Only he’s not very torn. He never truly is when it comes to Peter. Fondness deserves fondness in return. Peter has done him favors and doubtless he will collect on them, but he’s never been made to feel in Peter’s debt. And he’s seen what that looks like. No, Peter continues and will continue to do things for Elias for the sake of doing things for him. Because Peter actually cares about him. Elias can’t help but love him for that.

He kisses Peter’s cheek, brushing a finger under his chin. “Then you can perform your heroics by paying my solicitor and keeping me company once I’m finally done with this place.”

“And you’ll find me brave and noble?”

“Doubtful. But I’ll be glad to be with you.”

“Even better,” Peter says and he pulls Elias back in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first they were going to dance to Adele but I think Ingrid Michaelson's songs are sort of perfect.
> 
> I will admit that this was so very enjoyable to write. I stayed up way too late last night writing yet another fic about them too. I seem to have a problem.
> 
> Anyway, I'll be working on the next chapter soon - most likely today!


	3. Chapter 3

Cordelia Lukas is silent as she reviews his files. She shakes her head from time to time, jotting down a note here or there. When she does react, it is with a small, cruel smile that is exactly like Peter’s.

Elias remembers her as a small thing with fiery, frizzy red hair and flawless bronze skin. She was either serving as flower girl at one wedding after another or climbing trees much to her mother’s dismay.

He remembers her declaring at her fourteenth birthday that she still was set on becoming a lawyer. That she would take on any and all divorce cases because someone was always at fault when a marriage died. _Just because a person ends up alone and lonely doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get everything they want from the person who ruined their life._

Peter had beamed as she blew out the candles. _She really is my favorite._

Cordelia had changed her mind and moved on to more high profile arrangements since then. That said she did handle divorce settlements for a host of elite, wealthy clients whose names were never to be mentioned. Needless to say she herself had never married.

“I always wanted you for an uncle,” she says as if she’s relating the weather.

“Oh?” he asks idly. He already knows the answer, but it would be impolite not to inquire aloud.

“You gave the best presents. It was always some kind of experimental kit that made a giant mess. Everything else was always pink and sparkly and tidy.” Peter had been particularly keen on gifting her large stuffed animals. She sighs quietly then adds: “I appreciated your advice when... Anyway, she left.”

“With nothing, I trust.”

Cordelia smiles wickedly. “Less than.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning back in his seat. Its rusty legs make a loud, scraping sound against the tile floor. “So what of my particular plight?”

“This shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll skip work release simply because… well, I can’t imagine anyone wants you back just yet. You’ll return when there’s no longer any questions about it.”

“Does it matter what my employees want?”

“Only so far as proving your good behavior. They have no real control over your position – of course not. The general consensus is the sooner you are back to running the Institute and controlling your Archivist, the better.”

“So what am I looking at?”

“My uncle was spot on. It’s going to be house arrest. An ankle monitor. They’re equipped with a GPS locator now. I imagine you’re staying with Peter?”

“Most likely.”

“It’s entirely up to you, Elias, so please sort it out. You’ll have to decide where you want to remain.”

“Indefinitely?”

“We’ll try for eighteen months. You’ll have surprise inspections in addition to general monitoring. Funny business of any kind will land you straight back here.”

“It’s not me you need to worry about. Talk to your uncle, will you? Maybe he’ll behave.”

She smiled thinly.

“Will I get eighteen months?”

Cordelia nods confidently. “With a good deal of conditions. They have very little evidence and you have a great deal of information on them. A plea deal works best for everyone in this case, but they’ve been hoping for something like this.”

Elias thinks of Martin and then a variety of unpleasant means for dealing with him once he’s out. “They weren’t alone in that respect.”

Cordelia leans over and sets a hand on his. “I’m very good at what I do. I’ll handle this.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Then I hope you won’t shoot the messenger,” she says, withdrawing her hand. She slides over an ivory white envelope. His name is on the front of it, the s of Elias trailing off with a flourish.

Nathaniel Lukas is demanding a more traditional wedding to take place in Kent. In June. Because of course he is.

Elias brushes a finger over the embossed gold lettering of his wedding invitation to his own wedding and chuckles. “I won’t be able to go.”

“We’ll arrange for permission.”

He’s going to get what he wants so as much as the idea of going to Mooreland House offends him, he nods. The Lukas family is vaguely his for the time being. Displeasing Nathaniel is not without consequence. It is hardly worth doing so over something so trivial. Besides, this could easily be Peter’s daft notion.

Peter always enjoys his own weddings. Sometimes he thinks Peter ends things between them just to get another one. He never tires of a wedding ceremony or the night that follows. Peter is particularly good at vows that are both sincere and painful. He savors being toasted, remembering who is sincere and who makes the mistake of false niceties. It could just as easily be the money and presents he’s after. Peter enjoys a celebration particularly if he is being celebrated.

Cordelia seems concerned. “It’s fairly non-negotiable.”

Elias smiles. “Forgive an old man,” he tells her. “I was rather lost in thought. Yes, it’s quite all right. June is a lovely time for weddings. Anything else?”

She pulls out a large ream of paper with multiple post-it arrows of different colors littering its contents. “The standard arrangement. I need several copies of your signature. No pre-nuptial this time.”

“Really?”

“It’s his money,” Cordelia admits with a shrug. “Do try to stay married, if you don’t mind. It’ll be a headache to sort out.”

“I’ll do my best.”

________

“No pre-nuptial?” he asks when Peter walks in. “Is that wise, dear?” 

Peter makes a face. “Don’t start. I’ve had as much legal advice as I can take and then some.”

“I rather think if you’re resolved not to leave me, I’ll plan accordingly.”

Peter snaps a picture with his phone and sits down.

Elias frowns. “You should ask permission.”

“Oh dear, I’m trampling all over your prisoner rights,” Peter says with indifference as he taps on his phone. “Summon an officer of the law at once.”

“What are you doing?”

“Tending to our registry. I need this in case people have forgotten what you look like.”

“So you’ll use the least flattering portrait of me that you can muster up?”

“There are no bad pictures of you," Peter tells him with a smirk. He still isn’t looking up. “Besides, people will feel a bit sorry for us. Or at least for me. 'Finally lost the last of his marbles,' they’ll say as they flock to our wedding. We’ll get more gifts than we’ll know what to do with. Stacks of money. I’ll make you a separate little account for online shopping. You’re going to make for an odd house husband.”

Elias grimaces. “What are we asking for?”

“A new espresso maker. Art for the den. Furniture for your office. There are some new pieces you’ll like.”

“That’s a bit thoughtful of you.”

“Isn’t it? Martin will enjoy them before you do but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“…you gave him my office?” Elias asks. He’s frustrated with himself when the question comes out in a miserable tone.

“Well, it’s my office but I’m not usually there so… Yes and no.” Peter sets his phone down. “He just works in there, love, that’s all.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Perhaps we should talk about it,” Peter prompts. “Jon is coming along nicely thanks to my efforts and your input. Martin and the rest? They’re just little pestering flies who think too highly of themselves. I’d teach them a lesson but you want them to be safe from harm. You should stop protecting them.”

“I should be admiring their resolve and initiative. I’m pleased with Jon so I should be pleased with them.”

Peter’s eyes turn dark. “You should be preparing to take it all back and remind them of who is actually one with the Beholding. That is what you ought to do. And you will, you know. You’re going to get it all back.”

Elias nods gruffly. “Not soon enough.”

“Let’s plot a really delicious revenge, hm? Can’t exactly add that to the registry but we can still have it. We’ll start by inviting all of your disloyal little lackeys to the wedding.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“We’re married. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.”

“Even this?”

“Even this.”

Elias eyes Peter thoughtfully. “You can’t tell me the situation doesn’t amuse you.”

Peter shakes his head. He still looks serious, even on the verge of angry. None of it seems directed at Elias, however. “Some of the humor of it has worn off. I’ve told you to have plans in place. That you can’t trust anyone - even the incompetent - to stick to what they’re good at.”

“I had something in place or this would have been far more unpleasant for all involved.”

“It should be much more unpleasant. But only for them. For you I will put up with ill-mannered guests and piss-poor presents from the feeble lot you’ve acquired. Because it’ll be the start of giving you what you want, Elias. The satisfied smile on your face at the end of putting others in their proper place is the only reward I need.” He tilts his head looking amused. “Well, and a kiss and a shag. Maybe several.”

Elias reaches a hand out and strokes Peter’s face. He lets his fingers rest against his bearded chin. “You should love me less. Just a little.”

“Maybe you should love me more.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thanks to the usual suspects for looking this over. 
> 
> I hope Cordelia went over well. I just felt the need to add at least some female characters to this.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter does not leave him altogether, but he does leave himElias alone. Those days are adequate. He is left to his own devices in his cell for the most part. He has a half hour of yard time to himself, which he spends walking around the perimeter. They won’t let him use the exercise equipment anymore, but he’ll be back to that soon enough.

The guards find him anxiety-inducing and go to lengths to avoid him. When forced to interact, they are stiff and polite. The ones who haven’t stuck to this course of action, vanished months ago. The first guard texted in sick one day, he texted in a row of flag emojis the text, and then he sent a series of letters and numbers the next day. And then nothing. The second texted in his resignation and mailed their supervisor a Loss of a Coworker Sympathy card with humorous additions.

No one at the prison considers it a loss. No one at the prison finds it more than passing strange. Elias finds it amusing and a bit obvious, but then he is very familiar with Peter’s methods.

Elias wonders often what it is Peter is doing when he can’t be bothered to visit. He’s not at the Institute regularly and he’s hard to find beyond that. Fog and static close in when Elias tries.

So Elias hunts for Jon, patiently and subtly. He can’t observe him for long. Jon is Seeing at long last even if he’s rather keen on seeing Martin instead of serving any real purpose. Thankfully, Jon’s awareness, abilities, and Knowing have all improved significantly. Jon’s self-control has not. Elias feels a flush of pride and admiration whenever he thinks of his Archivist. There is excitement and warm satisfaction as Jon continues progressing. Because Jon will need him soon enough.

Cordelia comes by for brief, expensive consultations. She brings lavish lunches and fancy coffees along with her. Unlike her uncle, she rarely looks away from him. She stares long and hard at people. For Elias it is friendly enough. Others tend to avert their gaze as if they’ve lost a contest. Her eyes glaze over with lack of interest when guards speak to her.

The few times they’ve met during normal visiting hours, Cordelia makes people she knows reintroduce themselves to her. She watches them intently, drinking in their anger, displeasure, and worried frustrations. She’s been particularly savage to her replacement. Elias has already decided to hire her for the Institute.

It’s been five days – because Elias has been counting – and then finally Peter shows up.

“If you must know,” Peter announces, “I’ve been getting the house ready.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to appreciate that… You know full well I detest your taste when it comes to interior design.”  
“Oh, I didn’t bother doing anything about all the aspects of the house you’re honor bound to loathe,” Peter says dismissively. “You can handle that, sweetheart. No, the house has fallen to disuse and disrepair. Then I decided we ought to have a garden. Well, several gardens. And a maze.”

“…I’m feeling a distinct lack of involvement.”

“Because of the house or because of my absence?”

Elias remains silent.

Peter smiles. “You could ask.”

Ah. Elias glares hard at his husband. “Really, Peter?”

“Really, darling. What the old saying? It’s important to be nice but nicer to be important?”

“I think you’ll find it’s the other way around but… I take your point.”

Peter takes Elias’ left hand in his, toying with the black silicone band. “Oh, fine. You don’t have to beg. Just come out and say it. Say that you missed me.”

“I took note of your absence and it irritated me to no end.”

Peter shakes his head. He patiently strokes Elias’ knuckles and waits.

Elias sighs heavily. “I missed you,” he says quietly.

“I missed you too,” Peter replies as if that somehow makes it better. Peter can choose what he does so he can choose what he misses. “If you say the word, I’d whisk you away.”

“And besmirch your family name? You should have done that before you married me.”

“That’s true. Nathaniel decidedly disapproves of jail breaks. Almost as much as heists.”

“Cordelia says it shouldn’t be too much longer. A matter of weeks.”

Peter makes a face and then shrugs. “Well, my sweet little jailbird, we’ll have to make the best of it. So. Let’s work on the house.” He draws out an iPad from his briefcase. “Here.”

“…so you do planned on including me.”

Peter taps Elias’ nose. “Of course. I even brought you landscaping magazines. Don’t you know I’d never plot without you?”

Elias rolls his eyes.

“You nearly laughed.”

“I will never in this life laugh at a gardening joke,” Elias assures him. He looks to the iPad and powers it on. “What’s the password?”

“Your birthdate. The original one.”

Maybe Peter has missed him after all. “I’m not sure this will connect to the internet.”

“That’s what hot spots are for. Give me it.”

Elias hands it over as something occurs to him. “Bad news about the magazines.”

“Hm?”

“I’m only allowed three books and two periodicals at a time.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “Does the odds of you getting a paper cut increase exponentially the more you have in a cell?”

Elias chuckles.

“No, I’d like to know. If you had a few more books, would you make a stack high enough to climb over the wall? I’ve never heard of anything so pointless.”

“I mean, it is prison, dear.”

“A matter of weeks,” Peter scoffs. “How am I to contend with this for weeks?”

“Yes, it’s ever so difficult for you.”

“It is, actually,” Peter mutters. He hands back the iPad. “There, take a look. Here are pictures of the house currently.”

Elias examines them. “…it’s all very plaid. A good deal of dead things. I imagine this collection of carved ducks is worth a great deal?”

“Sentimentally, at a guess.”

“I know I’ve been critical of your taste,” Elias says. He ignores Peter’s chuckle and continues, “But this seems very unlike you.”

“It was a collective property. A familial hunting lodge although it wasn’t exactly abundant in much of any particular sort of wildlife.”

“We’re nowhere near the Institute.”

“Oh? Should I have bought the next building over and a telescope?”

Elias huffs.

“I know it’s too much to ask that out of sight is out of mind, but let me have you,” Peter suggests. He circles around the table, holding up a hand when a guard glances their way. The guard finds something else to do.

He sits down beside him, pulling Elias closer. “Let me have you,” he repeats. “There’s no debts or favors, but that’s the deal. Let me spoil you and distract you from what’s temporarily beyond your reach.”

Elias sighs, letting Peter stroke his hair. “Yes, yes,” he agrees distractedly. “I guess I should be thrilled that there will come a time when something isn’t.”

Oh but he’s going to be so very bored and Peter will smother him with attention when he’s brooding over the Institute. So they probably will be all but joined at the hip once he’s out of prison.

Still, he does like the idea of being distracted and spoiled. Of waking up in a king-size bed to big warm hands on his thighs. Breakfast in bed. Two desks nearby so he can get some work done but Peter can continue his best impression of a lamprey. He wants large bay windows and succulents in the corner of their room. Something green every room. He’s missed having plants.

Peter is smirking when Elias finally pays him some attention.

Elias sighs, but doesn’t object entirely to being in Peter’s lap or to Peter having his arms around his waist.

Peter kisses his cheek. “When the book cart comes around, you’ve only to select better books. Then you’ll have it all.”

“I’d like Jonathan to visit,” Elias wistfully replies.

Peter sighs against his neck before biting gently. “I can only complete so many impossible tasks a day, my love. Even for you, and he’s not ready for you yet.”

“I don’t need him to be ready.”

“I rather loathe Jonathan Sims,” Peter admits, his expression dark. “I’ve never met an Archivist I didn’t hate five to ten minutes later.”

Elias strokes his cheek.

“I’ll make myself less scarce in the meantime. I realize it’s not the same but it’ll have to do.”

“Peter, I married you because you matter to me. I want to see him because he’s my Archivist. You’re my husband. Don’t think me so ungrateful that I have any intention of forgetting what you’ve done for me. What you’ve always been willing to do for me. With all that’s happened and will happen… If it works…”

“Well, I draw the line at holding his hand through the process.”

“Yes, but you’ve led him there. Jonathan will always be significant to me. I will always want him close by, but the love I have for him is not mutual. It pales in comparison to what I bear for you. If it works and if everything changes, nothing will alter for you. I want you to remain the same and with me.”

“And if it doesn’t work? You stand a damn good chance, but so have we all at one time or another.”

Elias breathes in a deep sigh. “Let’s travel a bit more.”  
________

When the day finally comes, Elias is more relieved than he expected to be. He’s finally, finally going to be allowed elsewhere, to walk into other rooms, to go up and down stairs, and to stand somewhere with trees. He’ll be able to find his Archivist even if his access to him hasn’t improved significantly.

Peter kisses his wrists, soothing at the faint marks the cuffs are leaving before tugging him to their car. Two officers will follow them to the house to set up the monitoring system.

Peter gets the door for him and the seat belt. Elias closes his eyes as he leans back against a sleek leather seat. Peter sets off, his hand moving from the shift to Elias’ thigh and back again.

“I’ve had most of your belongings moved,” Peter tells him. “Did you want to keep your apartment?”

“Might as well. We can sublet.”

“No more prison,” Peter suggests, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Elias opens his eyes. “That would be best. Don’t speed, dear. How did you convince them of this arrangement?”

“I didn’t. Your lawyer did. Remember, your lawyer? Are you feeling all right?”

Elias scowls. “Didn’t they want me in the back of their car?”

“It took very little effort on my part. So fret not, Elias. If you can’t even make it home, how are you going to last eighteen months?”

“That’s a good question whether or not we make it home.”

“I have several ideas,” Peter tells him with a wicked smirk. “Just lay back and behave. I don’t have the keys to those either so… Incentives, eh?”

“I want breakfast in bed.”

“All right. Just tell the chef what you want.”

“I don’t think so. I think I want you to make it.”

“You know I dislike doing things.”

“I want you to make me breakfast. It’s part of being married.”

“Is it? Right. Burnt scrambled eggs and the Captain’s Crunch, it is then.”

Elias chuckles despite his every intention not to. “You can cook. You’ll cook, won’t you, Peter?” He asked, brushing his bound fingers over Peter’s hand. “For me? I want a French omelet and potatoes and toast with jam.”

“Does his Lordship require honey from the family hives for his tea?”

“I’d like some of that Turkish coffee you drink.”

“Very well. I’m pretty sure I wanted to bring you home but I can’t remember why.”

Elias smirks. “Breakfast in bed requires certain steps leading up to it.”

“And there it is.”

At the house, the officers begin setting up the monitoring system. After, of course, Peter makes them remove the cuffs. To do that, they attach the ankle monitor and it feels bulky and unpleasant.

They go over how it all works with Peter and the house’s head of security, making no effort to include Elias in the conversation. He listens in vaguely, reading a magazine in the parlor while he waits for them to go.

“You’re not to leave the house,” is all Peter explains. He’s never been good at explaining anything in particular. “If you try, an alarm will sound and they’ll come back to cart you away. There’s a way to deactivate, which I’m allowed to do provided we check in immediately and the GPS indicates you haven’t gone anywhere. If we tamper with it, you’re back to prison. Good news though. It’s waterproof.”

Elias sighs heavily, letting his head rest against the wooden frame of the antique chair he’s in. He runs his nails along the claws and arms of the chair. “What now?”

“Now we actually work on relaxing?”

Elias blinks and looks down. Peter is taking off his shoes.

“What are you doing exactly?”

“Always so suspicious,” Peter murmurs, taking off Elias’ socks. “I’m going to rub your feet. It’s part of being married.”

“You won’t have the servants do that?”

“You’ve been manhandled enough for one day.”

“Hm. That’s sweet of you.”

Peter leans over him and kisses his lips. “Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins house arrest.
> 
> If you're in need of even more PeterElias, there's several more posts on my tumblr (cruelestmonth) that aren't here yet. A historical AU ficlet, one about pet names, and a ridiculous one about nautical terms.


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